


The Leather Party

by pippen2112



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Communication, Dom Agent Carolina (Red vs. Blue), Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kinky, Kinky Relationship, Leather Kink, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Control, Paddling, Polyamorous relationship, Post-Coital Cuddling, RvB Rare Pair Week, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Subspace, safe words, sub locus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:36:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Carolina digs her fingertips into Locus's scalp, dragging another moan out of him. Slowly, carefully, she tightens her grip and tips his head back. "Ready for the main event?"He gulps. "Yes, miss.""Good boy. Stand up and go kneel in front of the ottoman."Letting out a long exhale, Locus obeys.A sequel to "Date Night"





	The Leather Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mantisbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mantisbelle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Date Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16113761) by [pippen2112](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112). 



> Happy Rare Pair Week, everybody! Here's more fuckinglolina bullshit! This time with an emphasis on Locus and Carolina. This work is dedicated to Mantis for prompting me to actually write the leather party, so here we are. 
> 
> This fic is brought to you by the prompts "nipple play," "leather/latex/rubber" and "spanking." If I missed any tags please let me know.

Arriving at Vanessa's house is different than normal. For one thing, Locus is painfully aware of his cock pressing against the fly of his pants--his leather pants, the pair that Tucker bought him for Christmas on a fool's hope that he'd one day wear them. For another, there's a collar around his throat, thick and tight and sitting high enough on his neck that his jacket does little to hide it. For a third thing, Carolina keeps shooting glances at him through their trip, the corner of her mouth curled into a smirk.

When they pull to a stop outside Vanessa's home, Carolina says, "Tell me your safe words, Lo."

The tension in his throat and chest dissipates. He hadn't realized his jaw had clenched sometime during the drive. "Green for all clear, proceed. Yellow for slow down and adjust. Red to stop."

"Good boy." Her low words send a flare of arousal through him, his dick throbing in his pants. Carolina tugs his leash and pulls him to face her. "No one will touch you without my permission and without your consent. No matter how good your ass looks in those pants. Remind me to thank Tucker."

"I will not," Locus counters. "He would be insufferable for days after."

Carolina laughs. "You may be right. Come on. Grab the bag out of the backseat. Vanessa's waiting."

She certainly is. They don't even get a chance to ring the bell before the door opens and Vanessa and Emily quickly pull Carolina into a big hug. Locus follows behind and stands to the side as the women exchange kisses. Vanessa is dressed rather modestly in a pair of black slacks and a button down shirt, half the buttons undone and revealing the swell of her breasts. In contrast, Emily wears a violet underbust corset, a pair of thigh high heeled boots, and not much else. And given the bright red flush of her bare ass, Locus can only assume that they started playing early. 

He swallows hard and stands at attention behind Carolina, thankful he has something to occupy his hands as the women greet each other. That is, until Carolina unties her trench coat. Dropping the bag to the side, Locus steps up to slide the coat off her shoulders. Carolina shoots him a pleased grin and gives him a curt command to take off his jacket too. He does so without hesitation, dragging the zipper down his chest and revealing his harness and bare chest. Emily whistles as she takes their coats and the bag, and Vanessa gives him and approving if uninterested nod. "Carolina tells me you'll be subbing tonight."

He nods stiffly, his cheeks warming. "That is the plan."

With a soft laugh, Carolina steps up to his side and pushes her fingers up into the hair at the base of his skull, kneading gently. "You ready to go in?"

Locus nods. "Whenever you are."

Emily giggles as she returns from hanging their coats. "Oh, I am excited to see how you play with him." Then she loops her arm with Carolina's and leads them toward the living room. Locus follow close enough behind his leash remains lax in Carolina's grip but far enough back he can enjoy the view they make. Given Kimball's steady pace beside him, he suspects she agrees. 

As Carolina socializes with the friends and acquaintances at Vanessa's party, Locus tries to focus on his headspace. When she sits to discuss work with a mustachioed man in a chest harness and his partner, an aging twink wearing little more than a collar and a tiny leather thong as he sits in his partner's lap—Reggie and Butch if he remembers correctly—Locus knees at her feet, his bulk carefully folded under him, his hand resting on his thighs, his head bowed. He wills himself back to that hazy, floating place he found in the shower with Wash and has scrambled to keep hold of since. Breathing deep and evenly, willing his attention to drift away while he waits until his Domme requires him. Until he'll be asked to bend over and present his ass and let Carolina paddle him. As much as the notion still terrifies him, his cock pulse in interest.

He jolts when a firm hand pushes into his hair, kneading and scratching his scalp. Locus lets out a tiny groan, tilting his head back to find Carolina gazing down at him, pride shining in her eyes. "You doing okay down there, Lo?"

"Yes, miss. Green. Very green."

Carolina smiles.

"Well, color me impressed," says Butch with a throaty chuckle. "I didn't think we'd ever see the day when big bad Mr. Locus would sub. My compliments, Carolina. You’ve trained him well."

"I had very little to do with it," Carolina replies quickly. "Nobody can make Locus do anything he doesn't want to."

"Maybe Felix," Locus offers quietly. "Usually our tastes align perfectly."

Vanessa lets out a groan that sounds vaguely like "Fucking Felix," before downing the rest of her glass. "I am too sober to contemplate that man’s existence."

As she chuckles, Carolina digs her fingertips into Locus's scalp, dragging another moan out of him. Slowly, carefully, she tightens her grip and tips his head back. "Ready for the main event?"

He gulps. "Yes, miss."

"Good boy. Stand up and go kneel in front of the ottoman."

Letting out a long exhale, Locus obeys. He follows as Carolina leads him across the room and kneels before the provided ottoman. As he sits on his heels and waits, Carolina and Vanessa move behind him, assembling the necessary supplies where he cannot see. Even though he feels the urge to look, Locus keeps his eyes focused forward and tries to ignore the goings on behind him. He’ll be in the thick of it soon enough; might as well enjoy these last few minutes of peace.

Carolina steps behind him, letting her footfalls announce her presence. She pushes a hand up through the back of his hair, kneading his scalp carefully as to not dislodge his ponytail. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” Carolina murmurs against the shell of his ear. He shivers, sinking backward into her warmth. “I’ll warm you up with my hand, twenty over the pants and twenty on bare skin. Then the paddle.”

Locus nods. “Yes, miss.”

“Does that sound like enough, or do you want something else?”

He breathes raggedly, his throat constricting. Eyes closed, he lists backward until he rests against Carolina’s thigh. He should just nod and be done with it, take the punishment Carolina is more than equipped to dole out and enjoy what he’s been offered. But…

Carolina winds a finger in the D-ring on his collar and tugs his chin up toward her. He blinks instinctively, gazing up at her. She’s always beautiful, but dressed to kill and poised above him, she’s devastating in all the right ways. A line knits between her eyebrows, her eyes hard and heated. She yanks his hair and glowers. “Tell me what you want, Lo.”

He can practically hear her sneered “ _or else_ ” and shudders reflexively.

“May I have clamps, miss? Please?”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping down from his face to his chest to his pebbled nipples. He swallows hard, energy already pulsing through his limbs. But Carolina trails her fingers up over his cheek, runs her thumb along his lips and smiles. “Let me see what Nessa has. Why don’t you warm yourself up?”

Bobbing his head, Locus fists his hands, stretches them wide, and exhales as he raises them to his chest. He circles his nipples with his calloused fingers, pinching and tweaking and biting his tongue to silence himself. Tucker may be the one of their quintet with notoriously sensitive nipples, but he’s not the only one.

Carolina circles around in front of him, sitting on the ottoman in front of him, a pair of clover clamps dangling from her finger by a chain. Locus swallows hard, his mouth tipping open. She leans forward and cups his cheek with her free hand. “See something you want?”

He nods. “Yes, please.”

She cranes close and whispers against his lips, “Good boy.”

Without further ado, Carolina takes over for him. She twists and pinches his nipples, and Locus falls forward toward her, wanting both pain and reprieve in the same moment. Grinning wickedly, Carolina affixes the clamps to him and gives the chain a sharp jerk when she’s finished.

He gasps, back kept straight and rigid by sheer willpower alone. He asked for this pain, something pointed to counterbalance the spanking he’ll soon be receiving; now his job is to endure what he can and speak up when and if it feels like the levee will break.

Carolina cups his cheeks, startling him from his head space for just a moment. Her bright gaze is fixed on him, searching for the slightest discomfort. He holds her gaze for a moment, then bows his head in submission. “I’m ready, miss.”

“Good,” she says, her hand slipping to his shoulders and the nape of his neck as she steps behind him. She rubs his shoulders quickly and leans down to whisper in his ear, “Present.”

His throat constricts. _No going back, now._ Without a word of protest, Locus bends at the waist, draping himself over the ottoman. The clamps bite into his nipples harder with the added pressure of gravity, but it serves to settle his mind. To keep him tethered to the here and now as his endorphins rise around him. As the corners of his vision turn hazy and his skin turns hot.

There’s a murmur of conversation quieting around him, just loud enough to capture his attention. Before he can be distracted by it, Carolina runs her hands down his back, scraping her nails along his spine so he arches to meet her touch. She hums as she palms his ass, taking in the weight and texture as she sinks into the scene along with him. And breathe by breath, Locus feels Vanessa’s living room and all the people he’s slowly starting to call friends fading away. Only the thud of his heartbeat in his ears and the feel of Carolina’s hands on his skin remain.

She begins without fanfare, swatting his ass in a steady rhythm, pausing just long enough between hits for him to count every strike. At every hit, he jerks against the ottoman, jarring the clamps and sending bright streaks of pain through him. After a few hits, he settles into the familiar slow-building ache and drifts. He’s distantly aware of Carolina addressing the group, but her words mean nothing to him. Right now, her words are not his concern. If she wants his response, she will address him. Until then, he must wait.

By the time he reaches twenty, there’s a pleasant warmth building across his skin, and his cock is straining against his fly. Carolina stops to rub his ass and asks, “Color?”

“Green, miss.”

“Lean up for me.”

He does, and she reaches for the clamps, jerking the chain back and forth until they slip off. He lurches forward, the pain lancing through him and welling behind his eyes like starbursts. As he cries out, Carolina rubs his nipples and hums quiet praise as he settles back down against the ottoman. When she leans back, her fingers trail across the laces running up the seat of his pants, toying with the knot. “Shall I remove these?”

His throat constricts. “Yes, miss,” he rasps. “Please.”

She makes quick work of the laces and shimmies his trousers down his hips, hooking them just under the swell of his ass. He shivers, his eyes squeezed closed and his hands fisted against the ottoman. What must he look like, pants around his thighs, ass out for all the world to see, biting back his quiet pleas for more? Locus takes a deep breath as Carolina resumes her soothing strokes again, occasionally dragging her nails as she goes. “Green,” he repeats, knowing that’s what she’s waiting for.

Without a word, she resumes her strikes, steadily building up the power behind each strike. He gasps out each count, straining to keep himself still as the pressure builds. As his cock swells between his legs, dripping and untouched. Before he knows it, he hears himself count “twenty,” but that can’t be right. He groans into the leather, biting his lip and rolling his hips, squirming and searching for something, but he couldn’t say what.

“Color?” Carolina asks, her voice bright and present and demanding his response.

It’s enough to drag him out of his head. “Green, miss.”

“And the clamps?” She drapes herself across his back, tracing a nail around his areola. “Would you like them back?”

He gasps, biting his tongue as he arches up off the ottoman in search of more sensation. “I can take it.”

A hand fists in his hair, jerking his head to the side. Carolina stares down at him, eyes narrowed and mouth a tense line. “Do you want them still?”

Throat tense, he nods. “I like them, but laying on them...” he trails off, trembling.

The hand in his hair gentles, scratching along his scalp. “Good boy. We’ll go without for now. All the way onto the ottoman now. Elbows and knees.”

“Yes, miss.”

He settles himself into position slowly. Up here, he can feel the gentle current of the air against his chest. Can feel the warmth blooming on his upraised ass. He closes his eyes and bites back another gasp. His cock twitches between his legs, but he makes no move to reach for it. When he’s earned it, she’ll reward him.

Carolina strokes his back and haunches, humming. “Better?”

“Yes, miss. Thank you.”

“Good boy. We have three paddles to show off. I’ll do three strikes each, and ten of whichever you prefer.”

He hesitates. “Will…” He sucks in a harsh breath and struggles for his words. “Will you need me to talk, miss?”

After a quiet moment, Carolina squeezes his hip. “Let’s do five strikes of each instead. That way all you need to worry about are your safe words and your manners. You can just relax and enjoy.”

He buckles forward with the weight of his relief, just barely maintaining his position. “Thank you, miss.”

And with her permission given, Locus bows his head and lets his focus drift. He takes her strikes with minimal squirming, counts each hit automatically as the warming thuds swell and burst against his skin. Holds himself together while Carolina takes him apart piece by piece for all the world to see. By the time the last hit lands, he’s sweat-soaked and shaking from his restraint. But Carolina soothes him with a gentle hand, pulls him up on unsteady legs and leads him into a room with soft carpet beneath his feet. He blinks through the dim lights as Carolina tugs him to a bed and lays him down on his side, sliding in behind him.

“My good boy,” she hums, her eyes shining with unrestrained pride, her hands roaming his skin. “You did well. Would you like to come for me?”

A whine wrenches out of his throat. “Please,” he adds, almost like an afterthought.

“Good boy.”

Without another word, Carolina pulls his pants down further and wraps a hand around his cock. He thrusts into the slick circle of her fist, his head falling back and moaning. She strokes him quickly, her free hand thumbing at his still sore nipples, her teeth raking across his shoulder.

“Please, miss,” he cries, clinging to the bed sheets and her hip, but they can only do so much for him now.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she says quietly, pulling him tight against her.

He bucks, groans, whimpers, and in a moment of divine mercy, comes. Carolina lets out a pleased little growl and strokes him through the aftershock, pinning him against her despite her smaller stature. Gasping, he jerks in her grasp, sighing and keening as she works him until he’s twitching and fighting to get away. Onlly then does she release him with a soft word of praise and hold him gently, running her clean hand over his chest and pressing kisses into his shoulders.

Later, she’ll wipe him clean, roll him onto his stomach, and rub lotion into his ass to ease the tenderness. She’ll feet him sips of water and bites of his favorite dark chocolate and cradle him against her until he’s back in his own mind. He’s seen her do it for Wash, for Tucker, for Felix, more times than he can count, but for now, he rests his eyes and relishes the weight of her arms around his waist and lets himself rest. After a long night of firsts, he’s earned it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Questions, comments, and concrit welcome!


End file.
